Climbing the Military Ladder
by Terra Alchemist
Summary: After Roy's parents perish in a violent bomb blast in Central Park, Roy takes it upon himself to become Fuhrer of Amestris but what steps will he have to take to get to the top of the military ladder? Roy's struggles to get to the top begin.
1. I'll Be Here

**I'll Be Here**

"What?"

Roy stared at the officer numbly from the door of his father's mansion, holding his baby sister's hand tightly. She was looking around inquisitively, not paying any attention to the man who had shown up at the door. Roy's eyes were sunken and ringed with black, his gaze dead and unfeeling, his hair was a mess as if he hadn't combed it in weeks, and his back was hunched, the posture of a boy defeated by every force of the world imaginable, and still taking the beating.

The man at the door had special importance to him, but at the moment his hurt mind could not register any more than that the man had a moustache. There was something familiar about him, sure, but Roy didn't care at the moment, hadn't cared for a long time. Then he saw her.

"Riza," he said, without feeling, dead. His emotionless, hopeless tone cut her to the bone and she shivered. The boy that she had known so well for all these years was now only a shadow of his former self, a shadow that had become larger and consumed him since that fateful day in Central Park. It was supposed to have been a family vacation, a relaxation time, bonding time for father and son, but what it had turned out to be was too horrible for her comprehension.

And apparently too horrible for his as well.

"What do you want?" he intoned. His tired mind then registered that this was General Hawkeye at the door, and that Generals Hughes and Havoc were one step behind him. Jean, General Havoc's son, gave him a scathing look, as if angry with him. Roy didn't give Jean's expression more than a millisecond's pause, then turned to examine Maes. Maes was the picture of sorrow and pity, and Roy turned to look at General Hawkeye, pain and anger rising in his throat.

"What the hell do you want?"

The General paused for a moment and looked Roy up and down, as if sizing up how much damage the news would do him, then inhaled deeply.

"Your father is dead, Roy. Fuhrer Leroy Mustang did not survive the extent of his wounds in the infirmary."

Roy's throat lumped. "And... and the Brigadier General that was with him?"

"Brigadier General Ilia Durandal did not survive the blast either."

Only between the eight of them, one of which was oblivious to the conversation, little Terra, did this last statement have any real significance. To anyone else in the military, it would not matter so much.

"Your mother is gone as well, Roy, I'm sorry."

He bowed his head and clenched his fists. "You're... sorry? Do you really think that 'I'm sorry' cuts it?"

None of the Generals said anything in response.

"I'm sorry, that's it? My parents are... they're _dead! DEAD!_ They're not coming back. Why didn't you just leave me there, why didn't you just leave me there to die with them!" he cried, eyes blazing. Jean's teeth clenched, he stepped forward, and his arm lashed out, knocking Roy back into the house and onto his back. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and he leaped back up, lunging at Jean.

Jean hit him again in the cheek and locked Roy's arms by grabbing his elbows, standing a head taller than Roy. "Is that what you want? To die like a coward? And here I thought you were _brave," _he spat, face contorted in his anger. Roy snarled at him and turned, slamming Jean against the wall. "What would you know? You still have your father, I have nothing! Shut up! Don't talk about what you don't know!"

"So you want to die, Mustang? Your dad was a brave man, he died _protecting _you, your mom too, and this is how you repay them? By wishing you were dead?" He slammed Roy against the wall and Roy levered himself against the wall, rearing his legs and kicking Jean in the chest. "SHUT UP!"

"You live, Mustang, for them at least! Do you want their lives wasted? If you die, then they died for nothing!"

His words hit home and Roy staggered against the wall, catching his breath. Terra ran up to him tears in her eyes. "Brother! Brother!" she turned on Jean, and hugged Roy's leg. "Don't hurt Brother!"

Jean's gaze softened. "You see? She needs you now. She doesn't have any parents; you need to be Mommy and Daddy now."

Roy threw him a hateful look. "Just get away from me, Jean."

"I'm still your friend Roy, I don't want you to die."

"I said get away!" he screamed, shoving him out the door and slamming it in his face. He threw himself onto the couch and burrowed his face into the armrest. "Brother?" Terra pulled at his fingers gently and clumsily. "Where's Mama and Papa? I want Mama." Roy turned his face a bit and looked at her little face. She had no idea what had happened, could not understand the magnitude of it and probably never would. "Did you see the news, Terra?"

"It said there was a biiig boom. Is that bad?"

"Yes, Terra, it's bad."

"Why?"

"It... Mom and Dad... Mama and Papa went into it and didn't come back, Terra. It was a big mean boom and it didn't let them back out."

"But why? Mama will come back, won't she? She'll bring Papa back, won't she?"

"No, she won't. She's trapped, and can't come out," he said, struggling to get her to understand. His eyes stared at the radio next to the couch as they announced the choosing of the new Fuhrer.

" 'King Bradley...' " he muttered sitting upright, a pillow clutched in his hands. He felt... violated, like this new Fuhrer didn't deserve the position. He knew Bradley, a smooth talking, cheerful-esque phoney who rose in the ranks because of vicious swordplay and all the right words in all the right places, though he had never gained a promotion by his father's word, just those of higher ranking officers.

And now he was elected Fuhrer. Roy clenched his teeth and put his face in his hands, and Terra clambered up onto the couch, trying to pull his hands away from his face. "It'll be okay, Big Brother. We'll be okay, won't we?" Roy sniffed and pulled her closer to him. "You'll be okay, Terra. I don't know about me though."

"Why not?"

"Big Brother got hurt by the big boom too, just in a different way. Now they've already elected someone to take Dad's place in office. I _know _they had something to do with this; they had to!"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Dad must have left a will, must have left everything to me. This whole mansion Terra, the whole family fortune, belongs to me now. And I'll take care of you, okay?" She nodded. "And when I'm old enough, I'll join the military, and I'll work up through the ranks till I'm Fuhrer, just like Dad is _supposed _to be."

"What about me?"

"I'll send you to school, I'll even teach you myself. But when I get into the military, you might be all alone for a while, or you could go to Mr.Hughes's house. Would you like that?"

She nodded enthusiastically. She had been to the Hughes's house on many occasions since their mother had been a childhood friend of Mrs.Hughes, and their father a friend of Mr.Hughes.

That night, Roy decided it was time to head out to Eastern Headquarters. He had calledthe Hughes' and told them what he was doing, and to pick up Terra in the morning, then with great uncertainty, called the Havoc household.

The phone rang twice and a sleepy Jean answered. "Hallo? God, do you know what time it is?"

"Jean, it's Roy." Jean was silent on the other side and Roy was afraid that he would refuse to talk and hang up. "Still alive, then? You gave me one hell of a beating, you know."

"Sorry."

"The bruise will go away, nothing to worry abou-"

"Sorry for everything, Jean."

"... it's alright. Maes and I... you know... we were worried. Maes talked to you already, but the only thing I could think of was beating the hell out of you."

"Thanks. For the beating, I deserved it."

"I better savor the moment, I don't think I'll _ever _hear that again."

Roy laughed. "Probably not. Listen... I'm leaving."

"Leaving? Where? What about your sister?"

"I'm not going far, just to Eastern HQ in the morning. I'm going over to the military."

"You know how strongly your Dad opposed you going."

"Yeah, well, he's not here anymore is he?"

Jean said nothing.

"I have to be Fuhrer, Jean! I have to, for him. I know he would have wanted me to."

"Then Maes and I will be a step behind you."

"What?"

"You're going in as a State Alchemist, right? Like your old man? Maes and I, we're no alchemists, but we'll have your back from below."

"Really...?"

"We're making sure you go to the top, Roy."

"Thanks Jean..."

"We'll see you at HQ tomorrow afternoon then, bye."

Jean hung up, leaving Roy to stare in amazement at the phone.

He ran to Terra's room to take one last look at her before he left. He knew he wouldn't be gone forever, but he just couldn't stand the thought of leaving before he said good-bye, whether she was awake or not. He'd come home as often as he could, sure, but there was never the guarantee that he'd come home safe; a painful lesson too late he had learned from his father. He leaned over Terra's bed and stroked her hair gently. She mumbled something about mommy and daddy and her fingers touched Roy's hand, curling around his fingers instinctively. He smiled and bent down, kissed her forehead and as an afterthought placed a toy next to her which she curled around. "I won't be here all the time, but I'll always be here when you need me," he murmured.

"Big Brother's still here."


	2. Basque Gran's Threat

**Chapter 2**

Roy bit his lip and stared at the building that had been his father's charge and workplace, his home away from home. Jean and Maes stood on either side of him, eyes trailing the building as well. Roy stepped forward, his hands stuffed in his pockets resolutely, and nodded to the other two to stay behind. Maes caught his arm quickly before he entered the door and asked, "Are you ready, Roy? You know you have to have outstanding performance just to even consider you as a State Alchemist, right? You're only fourteen!"

"Oh, they'll let me in, Maes... they'll let me in." he shook his arm free and kicked open the door. The military men milling around in the lobby aimlessly stared at him and happy looks dawned on their faces, then fell again when they realized that he wasn't who they were hoping for. "Hey! How do you take the State Alchemist exams!" he shouted, demanding their attention. A particularly obnoxious man, whom Roy recognized as Colonel Basque Gran, sniggered at him. "Who do you think you are, whelp?"

"Me? You want to know who _I _am?" he asked, addressing the entire room. His slanted eyes surveyed them all, a fierce and dominating look that all of them recognized but none could place saw.

"I'm Roy Mustang, son of Leroy Mustang!" he declared, and the room fell silent. "Impossible! Mustang had no documentation of any children," Gran scoffed, though it pleased Roy immensely to see a drop of sweat coursing down the side of his head. It was true, his father did not keep any documentation of his birth so his mother's identity could be protected, and Roy didn't know how he would talk his way out of this one. Then one of the soldier's spoke up: "He has to be, Colonel Gran. Look at him; he looks exactly like Fuhrer Mustang."

"But he would have told us if he chose to recognize the brat," Gran continued to argue, trying to demean Roy.

"No Gran, this is Mustang's boy alright."

"Mr.Hughes!" Roy was glad to see him and the Brigadier General gave him a wave. "Leroy introduced me to the boy; this is his son. Lived under and was supported under his roof, so there's no question as to if he was recognized or not."

"I can vouch for that as well."

"General Havoc..."

"So... is there any question as to whether he should take the exams?" Havoc asked, looking around the room. Truth be told, the soldiers were delighted at having another Mustang in the military. Many were not pleased with the election of Fuhrer Bradley, saying that the ballots had been biased and tampered with. General Hughes sat himself on the edge of a desk and laughed. "Then there's no question, let's see what you can do, Roy."

Roy's eyes widened in surprise. "Right here?"

"Of course."

"And who will get the credit of ferreting me out and pushing me to the military?"

"No one but your father will get credit, Roy, I'll see to that," General Havoc assured him. Roy nodded and hesitantly slipped one hand out of his pocket, revealing an ignition cloth glove with the flame transmutation circle sewed into it. The soldiers gasped appreciatively; most of them recognized that symbol, and knew it well. The other hand was still firmly in Roy's pocket. "What do you want me to do?" he asked the Generals. "Well, right now it would be enough to just get a sample of flame alchemy. That should be enough to get you through the performance part of the exams."

Gran stepped forward menacingly. "No, he'll have to fight me with his useless sparks." Havoc stepped up angrily. "This isn't part of the procedure Colonel!" General Hughes held him back, a trace of an amused smile on his face. "Wait a minute, Havoc. This might be good for the boy's record.Fighting a ranked State Alchemist might be better for him in the long run."

"But he'll never win!" Havoc hissed through his teeth at Hughes. Hughes only shrugged and directed a wave in Roy's direction. "We'll never know until they try; Roy, this is your performance exam. Since we knew your father personally, we will exempt ourselves from the judging. Your judges will be the soldiers in this room. Soldiers: Grade Roy on his ingenuity with his alchemy and also his fighting prowess with it. Also see if he can develop a successful strategy in fighting Colonel Basque Gran. Remember, supporting Roy will get you no negative emmisions from Gran. If this becomes so, you come to one of the Brigadier Generals, we'll sort him out. Hear that Gran?"

Gran nodded, apparently dissatisfied that he could not harm the soldiers.

"Oh, and one more thing. Competitors in this performance exam are not allowed to deal permanent damage to their opponant, remember that, please," Havoc added. Roy nodded, and waited for the signal. Havoc and Hughes jumped back quickly and dove behind a couple of desks. "FIGHT!"

"What?" Roy asked in surprise. Gran loomed over him and Roy paled considerably, dodging to the side hastily as Gran smashed the floor where he usedto be. Roy continued to nimbly dodge his attacks, analyzing Gran's steps and swipes critically, looking for a possible opening, and the soldiers cheered appreciatively. Then Roy found his mark: just when Gran made his swing upwards, he left his body exposed for a precious second. A second was all Roy needed to snap his fingers and change the oxygen density in the air, creating his flames and blowing Gran into the other side of the room, into a wall, through the wall, and into Brigadier General Hawkeye's office.

"I say! Haven't you all stopped with your office brawls yet? I'm trying to do some work in here!" he yelled from his chair which he had scooted back into the wall as ColonelGran had careened into his desk and smashed it into splintered pieces, still smoking. Hawkeye peered through the hole. "Ah, Roy. Now I know what all the commotion is about, eh Riza?" Riza peeked out from around her grandfather and laughed as Roy's face reddened in embarassment. "I'm sorry for the hole, General Hawkeye."

"No matter, splendid show young Mustang!" Roy inclined his head in thanks for the compliment, smiling. "Thank you, Sir."

Havoc peeked up from over the desk and sighed. "So what do you all think? Should he be passed?"

"Pass him!" the crowd cheered. Hughes nodded, satisfied. "Now nobody can say we were biased to choose Roy, because we didn't. Alright Mustang, General Havoc and I will escort you to the Fuhrer's office."

Roy stiffened. "I have to go there?" he asked. He loathed going up there at the moment. "Yes Roy, you'll have to. You'll get your State certified name there, and if you go early, they might even let you have a preference."

Havoc and Hughes led him to the top floor; the Fuhrer's office, and knocked on the door. "Fuhrer Bradley, Sir, we have a promising State Alchemist for certification. The soldiers were present at his testing and approve of him, Sir." They stepped in and the Fuhrer smiled at them winningly, asking, "And how was his test conducted?" Havoc and Hughes saluted. "It was done in the lobby, Sir, and Colonel Basque Gran was asking for a fight so..."

"So we gave him one, Sir, in the form of Roy's performance exam," Hughes said, mouth quirking into a smile, and continued, "The only problem, Sir, is that there is now a rather large hole from the lobby straight into General Hawkeye's office, and Colonel Basque Gran is smoking in the vicinity of the lobby, which is not allowed."

"All in all, Sir, the soldiers say that he will be an outstanding State Alchemist."

Fuhrer Bradley nodded and studied Roy out of one eye, and Roy shuddered slightly. "Name, son?"

"Roy Mustang," he said, and Havoc and Hughes elbowed him from both sides. "Ouch! I mean, Roy Mustang, Sir."

"The former Fuhrer's son?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Any preferances you want on the certified name?"

Roy hesitated. "Is it possible... that I could take my father's name?"

"His first or second?"

"His first one, Sir. The Flame Alchemist?"

Fuhrer Bradley signed the papers and finished filling in all the blanks in the mock up document. "That look good to you, son?" Roy examined the document. 'I, Fuhrer King Bradley, bequeth the status of State Alchemist and it's parallel rank of Major, to Roy Mustang, henceforth named the Flame Alchemist...' he didn't need to read any more than that, he had been accepted!

"Now, I'll finalize this document, write it up myself, and it'll be yours to keep. Now as to who's jurisdiction you will be assigned..." he checked some papers and Roy looked to Brigadier Generals Hughes and Havoc hopefully. "It seems that you will be assigned to Basque Gran's jurisdiction, he's the next in line since you certainly can't be assigned to Fuhrer Mustang's jurisdiction."

"Yes Sir," Roy said hollowly. Basque Gran? The guy with the pointed moustache he had just blasted into Hawkeye's office? It seemed life would be a hell-hole from now on, and General Hughes put a hand on his shoulder. "Is there any way to get him out of Gran's jurisdiction?"

"I'm afraid not, General Hughes, I'm sorry. You are all dismissed." They saluted one more time, then steered Roy out of the room.

"How are you feeling, Flame Alchemist?" Havoc asked gently. "Like I got run over by a truck; multiple times. He'll eat me alive!"

"Just keep alive then, Roy. Gran has no power to kill you, don't worry. Just go up through the ranks, and you'll be fine."

"Yes Sir..."

Gran then chose that moment to appear before them, a sickeningly gleeful look on his face. "It seems you've been assigned to my jurisdiction, Mustang."

"Yes Sir."

"You'll be on cleaning duty until I think I've toned down your arrogance, am I understood?" Roy clenched his teeth, but forced himself to keep his temper. "Yes... Sir." General Havoc and Hughes had no power over this, and could give no more help than a pitying nod. "One more thing, Mustang. When you see me, or a higher ranking officer, you salute, am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

After the Generals had left, Gran grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall. "Don't think I don't know, Mustang. I know who your mother is." Roy growled at him and Gran pushed him harder into the wall. "You turn on me in any way, and I'll spill your secret to the whole office, and then where will you be? In a hole on the road, because the new Fuhrer doesn't like the products of breaking the Fraternization rule. You obey my every word, and you'll be safe, got it Mustang?"

Roy nodded slowly, though he hated to do it. "I got it. But first, tell me who you think my mother is."

"Ilia Durandal," he spat. "Mustang's faithful little Brigadier General." Roy's face paled and Gran dropped him on the floor. "We have an understanding. Your sucesses become mine, but your failures stay yours." he laughed and walked down the hall, leaving Roy to nurse his wounds and think of the terrible trap he had set himself up in.


	3. Fired?

**Chapter 3**

"You missed a spot over here, Mustang," Gran sneered. Roy gritted his teeth and sweeped the corner of the room angrily, wanting to swear at him viciously. He really didn't think this was worth going to the top, but when he stopped to think about it, which he was rarely able to do between sweeping and cleaning the toilets or the mess hall, he realized that it just might be. "Go clean the mess hall now, Mustang, the soldiers are done with it."

Roy hissed silently under his breath and shot Gran a hateful look, and Gran buried a bullet in the wall next to his head, causing Roy to jump in the air as the broom clattered to floor. "Heel Mustang." Roy turned slowly on the bathrooms with a sponge, a brush, a plunger, and a toilet brush he had gleaned from the supply closet. General Hughes sighed and watched his best friend's son plod over to the bathrooms and wondered vaguely what on earth he could do to help. General Havoc shook his head and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let him be, Hughes. He's got the same fire his old man had."

"Maybe that's why they're both Flame Alchemists, and we're not, eh Havoc?"

"Could be. Could be. Frankly, I'm worried about our own boys; if Mustang Junior is here, then where's our little rascals?"

"I don't think we need to worry too much about them, how much damage can they do?"

"If you say that, then you don't know my Jean... don't know him at all. There's a reason our family name is Havoc, you know..."

"That, or you tend to live up to it."

Roy grunted sourly as he plunged the mop into the bucket of water and slopped it over the tiles, wiping grimy water out of his eyes. Who the heck got these stupid jobs in the military anyway? That's what janitors were for, right? It's not like he was being a spoiled brat; his mother had made him clean many a bathroom in their mansion. It was just different; his mother and Basque Gran were two totally different people, but while he could have afforded to displease his mother, this was one area that he could not bear to slack in. For his own sake, and for her respectable name's sake.

He thought back to some of the earliest days he could remember to get his mind off the disgustingly unhygienic toilets and the mold and mildew growing on the walls. Some of that mold was as big as his pet cat! _Hell, they can swallow Belcini alive..._ he thought, suppressing a laugh. If Gran heard him laughing in here, he'd be sent with nothing but some water and a pair of gloves to scrub the toilets upstairs with.

He remembered when he was about three years old, maybe younger. That was as far back as he could go, which, his father said, was an enormous feat in itself. His parents had been in college when he was born; sure it was inconveniant, but he remembered his mother toted him everywhere and to all her classes, unwilling to leave him alone and unprotected for the slightest instant. His father hadn't been indifferent, just unable to help because his mother was so overbearing. He always saw his father at night, in the room his parents shared together, or rather, Leroy's roomto which Ilia disappeared to every night. After finishing homework, Leroy would stay up as long as he could stand to play with him before he fell asleep on his feet, or as long as Roy could stay awake; whichever came first.

After crying and whining to his mother for hours on end, she finally relented to let him out of her sight and stay with Leroy for a few days out of the week. She was fiercely oppossed to it, being so overprotective, that she would laden Leroy down with _everything _Roy might need for the entire day, and always cried and begged for Leroy to leave Roy with her. Roy would then commence to whine and scream and refuse to let his fingers uncurl from Leroy's shirt until she gave up and had to leave before the bell to her first class rung.

It was eleven years ago when he first encountered Basque Gran.

His father was holding him by the hand and leading him down the winding hallways, when his father, too busy watching where Roy was about to go to watch where he himself was actually going, smacked right into Basque Gran. Rumors in the school said that Basque Gran and Leroy Mustang had once been close friends in grade school, but something, or someone, had caused a rift between them that only bred hatred from that moment on. Roy, who had not yet realized that his father had bumped into someone, ran unsuspectingly into Gran's foot, tripping and landing him right onto his face.

"Waaaah... Daddy..." Leroy gave him a quick split-second lookover to see if he was alright, then his eyes glued themselves onto Gran's. "Get up, Son, Daddy's busy." Roy nodded, scrubbing tears out of his eyes with his little fists and getting onto his knees, then making the slow effort to ascend to his feet.

"What's your problem this time, Mustang? Forget how to walk straight?" Gran shoved him roughly and Leroy shoved back, equally hard. "Back off Gran, I don't want to run into you any more than I have to," he said, giving a quick look to Roy again and jerking his head down in the direction of a classroom.

"Finally admitting I'm the better man now, are you?" Gran's famous sneer worked its way into his face and Leroy regarded him cooly.

"No Gran, it's no fun picking on weaklings; I have more important things to do." It was then that Roy first saw the characteristics of a leader that he would mimic in his older days, though he did not realize it at the time. "We have different objectives Gran, you take care of yours, I'll worry about mine. Roy, go!" His voice raised a notch in his urgency from his smooth tone and Roy contented himself to hiding in the folds of the crowd.

"So we'll part ways now." He walked away and took Roy by the hand, dragging him off to class.

He shook his head quickly, clearing the thoughts from his head. He hoped Gran didn't think he was daydreaming in here, or he would soon be in the upstairs bathroom scrubbing those godforsaken toilets with water and gloves. He didn't even want to think about those things; period. He slouched and plodded out of the bathrooms with his mop or, as he liked to put it, his new found friend the mop. He sighed and went back to Colonel Gran's office, elated to find him absent. He tossed the cleaning supplies down and leaned over his desk, unable to satiate his curiousity, and riffled through the papers on it.

"Hum... Flame Alchemist's research journals... Dad's journals?" He was about to open it when Gran flung open the door, and Roy froze.

"MUSTANG! FIRST DAY ON THE JOB AND YOU'RE ALREADY SNOOPING AROUND! HOW ABOUT THE NEXT MONTH IN LAVATORY DUTY? AND THE WEEK AFTER THAT, YOU CAN HAVE SOME MORE LAVATORY DUTY. THEN WE'LL SEE IF YOU CAN EXPLAIN YOUR NOSINESS TO THE FUHRER. YOU CAN SAY GOOD-BYE TO YOUR CAREER IN THE MILITARY!"

Roy shook in his shoes and paled to resemble a sheet. Was his military career over already?


	4. Uncle Supersonic Alchemist

**Chapter 4**

"Now now, Gran, you know you can't do that..." Gran whirled around, almost apoplectic, which amused Roy even in his dazed and frightened state to no end. A dark haired man grinned at them warmly, crossing his arms over his chest. His legs, when Roy happened to catch the light glinting off of them, were a reddish automail, a kind he had never seen before that had brilliant yellow stones that covered his knees, reflecting all light that happened on the off chance to enter them into rainbows. The man crossed over to Roy and put a hand on his shoulder, and Gran yelled, spit flying, "I'll punish my own subordinates, Supersonic Alchemist!"

"Like I said, you know you can't do that. By all rights, those documents should be his. Unfortunately, I happen to be the second-oldest in the family, so..." he swiped the papers up into his hands deftly and gave Gran a grin. "No hard feeling, eh Gran? This is my props after all. You, Junior, can come with me," he said, waving to Roy. Roy stood rooted to the spot, mouth hanging.

"Are you deaf, kid? I said let's go!" Roy nodded and scooted past Gran quickly and followed the other man at his shoulder meekly. The man looked at him out of the corner of his eye, eyes twinkling. "Yep, you're a picture of your old man alright. Know who I am, kid?" Roy shook his head, then thought for a moment. "'Don't think too hard, you probably don't remember. You see...

"Your dad was my older brother, makes me your uncle, don't it? I haven't seen you since you were in the cradle, and a right long time that was! I couldn'tve been more'n fourteen or so... Your name's Roy, isn't it?" Roy nodded again, meekly.

"Come on now! I know you can't possibly be so timid, not with a father like your dad. Quite a show you put on in the lobby... if I hadn't leaped outta the way, I'd be Glenn Roadkill all over the Brig's splintered desk. Try to aim at something else next time, eh?"

"Yes, Sir, uh.. I mean..."

"Don't sweat, just call me Glenn."

"Did you hear about Dad...?"

Glenn's face darkened and he pulled his cowboy-esque hat over his eyes in respect for a second. "That I did. I... It's a downright shame... after all we'd been through. You the new Flame Alchemist, little guy?"

"I'm not a little guy! I... sorry, Sir... er... Glenn. Yeah."

Glenn laughed and waved off his embarrassment. "Don't sweat, don't worry. Just a word of healthy advice, tho': don't rile up Gran too much, it takes too much energy to save you from him, believe me. I saved Leroy's ass plenty of times from the guy; it's downright embarassing to be saved by the _baby _brother, let me tell you."

"Did you give him a choice?" Roy asked with interest.

"Not really," Glenn admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I just got worried, what with an infant and all, and he's pickin' fights with the king of muscle heads... If you wanna know where you're goin', we're going to go hook you up with your sparrin' buddy. I think you two have met before, man is this guy a real piece of work, bundle of laughs, this one." He ushered Roy out the door into the courtyard and Roy sweatdropped heavily.

"Alex..."

"HO HO! IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU, ROY MUSTANG! I feared you were very much down..." Alex Louise Armstrong proclaimed, flexing his muscles. Even at eighteen, Alex Louise Armstrong had perfected many of the Secret Armstrong Family Techniques Passed From Generation to Generation of the Armstrong Family. He had even started sparkling, Roy couldn't help but notice as one particularly obstinate sparkle decided to slam and imprint itself into his forehead. He grappled with it for a few minutes before tossing it to the ground violently and stomping on it.

"Right-o, boys, you two are sparring partners. A piece of info, you two are both State Alchemists, ain't that grand?" Glenn beamed at the two of them and Roy turned his head, a desperate and hopeless look of pain and sorrow on his face. "You want me to be turned into lunch meat by Alex?"

"That was the ide- uh, I mean, you have to practice your dodging skills, don'tcha?" Glenn said, raising his palms up in an attempt to look innocent. His eyes narrowed suddenly, but he kept perfectly still. "Don't move, boys," he whispered. He put his arms down and turned slowly, scanning the courtyard with his eyes. "What is it, Glenn?" Roy asked, his eyes questing for the source of Glenn's disturbance and sudden change in character. Glenn shushed him hurriedly, then smiled. "Now you'll see why I'm the Supersonic Alchemist!" He clapped his hands together and held them in the air in front of him, and the air shimmered and seemed to become thicker. "You won't get past me!" He clapped them again and held them to his legs, and the jewels glowed. Roy's arms and legs felt heavy, as if everything now took much more energy than usual; it was a struggle to even blink! Then he realized.

"You can alter... time!"

"That I can. The very air around us contains thousands upon thousands of molecules and atoms. By slowing down their rates of collision, and stretching the effect as far as possible, namely the sun, I can slow time. Inertia and velocity is everything in alchemy, Roy. If you snapped right now, it would be childsplay to change the density of the air or the time it takes the air to react with a spark; in fact, I can stop it from reacting at all!"

He sped off around the courtyard, a blur to Roy and Alex's eyes. "Not only is he gifted with time slowing, but also an inhuman speed thanks to his automail legs," Alex murmured.

"So... So you truly are the strongest alchemist..." Roy murmured. "Time is everything."

In a matter of seconds, Glenn had rounded up all the invaders, and proclaimed them rebels from the east, carting them off to HQ and back. When he returned, Roy queried, "Are you the strongest alchemist?" Glenn laughed.

"Oho, I would like to think so; but there was no stronger man than your father. He could beat me any day of the week."

"But how?"

He regarded Roy. "It would be impossible for anyone who uses circles to defeat me, and so I am, in a sense, the strongest alchemist."

* * *

Lesse here... Glenn is the product of listening to Auron's Theme and Jecht's Theme on the FFX soundtrack waaaaay too many times. Glenn is a laid back kinda guy, just like the tunes in Auron and Jecht's Themes. Gotta love FFXs songs, man! - T A 


End file.
